


Tusk Love: Mizara and Vulri

by TuskLove



Series: Tusk Love: Mizara and Vulri [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: CR - Freeform, Elf, F/F, Fluff, Half-Elf, Half-orc, Lesbian, NSFW, Orc, PoC, PoC Lesbian, Smut, Trans, Transgender, Transwoman, Tusk Love, Zadash, critical role - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuskLove/pseuds/TuskLove
Summary: The second novel of the Tusk Love series, now on Ao3.Follow it on tumblr: https://tusklovethebook.tumblr.comMizara is a femme half-orc transwoman. Vulri is a hardy half-elf woman. They met at a concert in Hupperdook, when Mizara was following a traveling band of hard-hitting bards. Vulri’s done it all, pretty much, but has a soft spot for helping caravans make routes between cities.The story picks up when Vulri is given a job to guard a caravan, but Mizara’s head is filled with haunting thoughts that it might be more dangerous than first advertised. Rumours of a vindictive warlock preying on lesser folk, aids her case, but Vulri urges Mizara to trust the caravan leader and their need for coin.





	1. A Simple Life

The purple coated clouds glided over the orange sky. The Tri-Spires stood proudly as they always did, shaping Zadash’s skyline like faraway mountain peaks. Its people were now happily flooding the streets, businesses closed down for the day and the sounds of merriment burst the windows of many taverns wide-open.  
It was a good day, as ones before. Especially if you were as in love as Mizara was. She walked down the Pentamarket towards the Interstead Sprawl with a skip in her step and a full basket of groceries in her hands. Her chiselled jaw was crowned by the simple strokes of blush made from the reddest flowers the grasslands had to offer. The tone of her green Half-Orcish skin was complemented beautifully by her make-up. She waved past smiling pedestrians.  
“Afternoon!” she said with a smile, “Sky’s beautiful tonight!”  
“Always is in Autumn,” replied a Human farmer.  
They bowed to each other and continued on with their day. Mizara thought about dinner and what Vulri could be thinking about herself. As she turned the corner, she wondered how strange it all seemed; looking back three years ago, Mizara would have been hopping from job to job miles away from Zadash, with no idea that she would be living there and going grocery shopping with no worries weighing down on her broad shoulders. Mostly no worries.  
Being drawn to the arts and all their beauty was something that infatuated Mizara early on in her life. For a second-generation City Half-Orc, she found it easier than her parents to blend in and to live outside of the beastly expectations people still held of those of Orcish heritage; but there was always a calling to glory in her blood, one that Vulri flirted with, with her mercenary stories and crude demeanour. Mizara first found it strangely enthralling, if not a bit annoying. Vulri played with that for the first four dates, asking to touch Mizara’s tusks and wondering out loud how good they could feel, biting into her flesh. It did not take Mizara long to appease the woman she had been crushing on for weeks.  
Their window was filled with the flickering warm glow of their fireplace. She expected Vulri to come in later, but that surprise was more than welcome. Before she could open the door, a voice called out to Mizara. Ruthi, their neighbour whose jowls sagged immensely with the coming of time. Still, her skin glistened as moonlight crept through the darkening sky, kind eyes gazing into Mizara’s. Her voice was gruff and low, like ushered gravelly whispers.  
“Oh, dear, excuse me. Could you possibly lend me a cup of flour? I am making some pie for dessert and I have completely miscalculated the amount of flour I had in my kitchen. I swear, sometimes I must lose my mind!”  
“Ruthi,” Mizara laughed awkwardly, taken aback, “Sure, I have none in my basket here, but if you give me a sec-“  
Mizara smiled, brushing her locks away from her face. She turned the keys on the door and opened it wide, as Ruthi helped herself in. They walked towards the kitchen, Mizara called out to Vulri and she heard the honey-coated voice of her lover beckoning her towards the kitchen. As they walked in, Vulri stood over the counter, stirring the contents of a pan, wearing an apron… and nothing else.  
Ruthi squeaked, letting an exasperated sigh leave through her pursed mouth soon after. Mizara giggled and cut in front of Ruthi, dropping her basket and quickly hugging Vulri from behind before she could react.  
“Our neighbour just saw your ass,” she whispered to her ear, “all she wanted was a cup of flour.”  
“Uh…”  
Mizara could see Vulri blush, her tanned face reddening with embarrassment. Mizara stretched out her arm towards the top cupboard and grabbed the bag of flour. She turned to Ruthi who had kept her eyes partially closed.  
“Here you are, Ruthi! Sorry about that. You can bring the bag tomorrow, it’s alright!”  
“Oh, are you su- “  
“Yes, I’m quite sure, Ruthi! Have a good evening!”  
“You too, Mizara! G-goodbye, Vulri!  
Vulri turned on her naked heels, holding on to Mizara’s sides, her head settling down on her shoulders. They both smiled.  
“Good night, neighbour.”  
Ruthi whispered gibberish under her breath as the couple laughed quietly to themselves. Mizara followed their neighbour out and locked the door, sighing heavily.  
“Vulri!”  
“I’m sorry, lover, but I didn’t know she was coming in with ya, now did I?” Vulri’s voice was deafened by the sound of metal cutlery scratching the pan resonating on the kitchen walls.  
“Well-“  
“You don’t like lookin’ at my ass walkin’ in? Mmm?”  
Vulri brandished her spatula like a weapon and her puppy-dog eyes as a shield. Mizara had no way to fight such a formidable foe fairly. She had to play dirty. The half-orc smiled coyly, tugging on the strings of her blouse, opening it to a more revealing cleavage.  
“You don’t mind if I pay you back then?” Mizara’s tone was purr-like, as she bit down on her lip.  
“Oh, you bastard. I just made food!”  
“So? It’s…” Mizara peeked over Vulri’s shoulder, inquisitively, “Vegetables, rice and eggs? You can just heat it up. Come on…”  
Vulri groaned, throwing her the cutlery onto the counter. She protested as she unlaced her apron, pulling it over her head. Vulri grabbed a handful of Mizara’s blouse and yanked her close.  
“I never cook. I wanted to surprise you!”  
“I know, you beautiful gem of mine, thank you.”  
“Mmhm…” Vulri kissed along Mizara’s jawline.  
“But I want you to do something before we have dinner.”  
“Mmm?”  
“I want you to…“  
“Mmmhm?”  
“…set the table.  
Vulri could hear Mizara hold back her laughter, as she embraced her.  
“Alright, alright. Nuh-uh, get off.” Vulri slipped away and moved to the stove, looking for the spatula once more.  
“Loveer…”  
Mizara prowled behind her. She kneeled down and raked her nails up Vulri’s thighs. She could feel her tremble under her touch. Mizara smiled as she moved closer, kissing her buttocks gently. Her apologies were muffled as she inched forward, placing her face between her cheeks. Before long, Mizara felt Vulri’s hand grab her hair and nudge her forward, as she stepped back.  
“Welcome home, Miz…”  
“Thenk yu, bebee.” Mizara inhaled sharply after speaking.  
“What was that?”  
“Thank you, baby.”  
Morning crept in through their bedroom window, uninvited and definitely not welcome. Vulri turned around, grunting like a forest animal, waking up the snoring Mizara. Both jolted each other awake and moaned happily. Vulri stretched, and Mizara snuck under her wing before her arm plopped down.  
“Mornin’, Vee,” grumbled Mizara.  
“Mm.”  
“Morn-“  
“Mornin’, baby.”  
“When are you leavin’?”  
“Too soon, baby. Too soon. Could you bring the sun down for me please?”  
“The curtains?” Mizara moved to the edge of the bed.  
“No, the actual sun. Call off today, I don’t want to get out of bed. Please, thank you.”  
Mizara nudged Vulri playfully, whispering promises of pancakes and morning sex. Vulri was up in seconds. Vulri tidied up their bedroom as Mizara cleaned up the counter, cursing their early evening and morning clean. Oat pancakes were complimented by fresh fruit and leftover fried pulled pork. Vulri told her about how the caravan leader was in talks with a merchant from Hupperdook about a new possible trade deal. It did not take them long to reminisce about their first date in Hupperdook and the band of Gnome bards that played the concert they attended.  
Vulri pulled on the straps of her studded leather armour after inhaling deeply. She looked in the mirror and soon Mizara joined in, in admiration. They kissed, softly at first, before Mizara calmed Vulri down, hands on her chest.  
“Have a good day today, Vee. I love you.”  
“Mm. I love you too. See you soon.”


	2. Adventuring Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second novel of the Tusk Love series, now on Ao3.  
> Follow it on tumblr: https://tusklovethebook.tumblr.com
> 
> Mizara is a femme half-orc transwoman. Vulri is a hardy half-elf woman. They met at a concert in Hupperdook, when Mizara was following a traveling band of hard-hitting bards. Vulri’s done it all, pretty much, but has a soft spot for helping caravans make routes between cities.  
> The story picks up when Vulri is given a job to guard a caravan, but Mizara’s head is filled with haunting thoughts that it might be more dangerous than first advertised. Rumours of a vindictive warlock preying on lesser folk, aids her case, but Vulri urges Mizara to trust the caravan leader and their need for coin.

The creaking of the wooden wagon accompanied the sound of an inquisitive robin along the path east. Giant sentinels loomed over them all, their autumn-coloured canopies were slowly undressed by the cold winds from the mountains ahead. The robin flew from branch to branch, a speckle of orange blending in with the falling leaves. Vulri held on to the reins confidently, with Mizara’s head resting on her shoulder. The half-elf’s eyes watched the bird, a timid smile pushing her rose cheeks gently upwards.  
It had been two days since they left their home behind, and Vulri found the path towards the promised gold much calmer than anticipated. Ellias Darel was a merchant of adequate influence in the region and his ways of dealing business were adequately suited for the cargo Vulri was delivering. Fine parchments and ink. Custom stationery and middle-to-upper class possessions that neither Vulri or her lover saw use for.  
Nevertheless, the promise of three-hundred gold coins was not to be brushed off lightly. Rumours of warlocks and undead gnolls sounded more and more like fool’s tales as they continued their journey. Hupperdook lied North of the path taken, and Vulri quickly thought about the night they first met. The half-elven sword-for-hire and the half-orc bard-groupie. Her Elven father might have wished for a better partner for his only daughter, but Vulri listened to his advice with deafened ears, unconcerned about his opinion. As her mind raced between his stern face and Mizara’s beautiful smile, Vulri revelled in her smell. The apple-scented shampoo and the cinnamon body oils. The love of her life constantly smelled like freshly made apple pie. As the corners of her mouth began curling up once more, she chuckled and shook her head, playfully disgusted at how stupidly in love she was.  
Suddenly, the horses reared back and whinnied. Vulri snapped out of her trance, her eyes scanning the dirt road for whatever could have spooked the animals. Her ears perked up, the sharp whistle of an arrow incoming. Mizara awoke from her slumber, her head quickly shoved down between her legs—the arrow missing its mark by mere inches. Vulri screamed for the horses to make their way out of the ambush, slapping their rear with the extended reins at her hands. Mizara kept low, fumbling through her small haversack for a weapon of some kind.  
“What’s going on?!” yelped Mizara.  
“Fuck if I know, but we need to get out of here!”  
The horses picked up an almost supernatural pace, as arrows skid off the dirt road or hit the wagon with soft thuds. Soon, there was yelling behind them. A rider giving chase nocked an arrow and loosened the bowstring. The arrowhead poked through, just under Vulri’s shoulder blade. Mizara screamed and turned to her bag once more, hoping to find something on top of the hoped-for weapon. She gritted through her teeth, cursing the man and digging through a sack behind her; her hand found a shortbow, as Mizara showed her the dagger she had taken from her haversack and the poorly-rolled bandage. Vulri chuckled in the heat of the moment, preferring to keep to weapon combinations she was actually comfortable with, and to leave any bandaging-up for later. She passed her lover the reins and continued her search. She found three arrows, biting into one, holding unto another while nocking the last. Vulri bopped and weaved as the rider shot once more but failed to hit her. Vulri shot the first arrow, but the rider stayed low, hugging its mount. The second arched to high, missing him entirely. She groaned and closed one eye, plucking the last arrow from her mouth.  
“This was going so—” Vulri stopped herself.

   
Loose. Thud. Whinny. The horse stumbled forward mid-gallop and the rider was propelled off his saddle and soon crushed by his horse. Mizara winced and looked up at Vulri who sported a winning smile.  
“Did you really have to shoot the horse?”  
“I was aiming at the rider. Guess I’m out of practice.”  
Vulri sat back down and took over the reins, laughing through the pain and the arrow sticking out of her shoulder. Mizara leaned in and began pulling on it. Vulri groaned once more.  
“Ow?”  
“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! But I need to take it out!”  
“I’m going to pass out if you’re not gentle!”  
Mizara tugged on the arrowhead quickly.  
“Bitch, I’m always gentle! Stop fidgeting.”  
Vulri gave Mizara a death stare, which she ignored as her attentive eyes followed the shaft of the arrow, as it slowly left her lover’s shoulder. Mizara applied pressure on the wound and rolled out the bandage.  
“Arm up, come on,” Mizara instructed with a smile.  
Her wound was wrapped up quickly, the first stripes of cloth reddening quickly. Mizara began tightening up with each pass over her shoulder and tied it up. She caressed Vulri’s cheek, her blood tracing a line along her cheekbone. A tender kiss followed.  
“Took us only two days to get ambushed,” Mizara said with a chuckle. “Can’t wait for the dragon to swoop in five days from now.”  
“Joke all you want, I don’t have enough arrows.”  
   
The road widened, as the treeline dispersed deeper into the faint woods behind them. No rider followed. Vulri sighed with relief, while Mizara inspecting the cargo in the wagon.  
“What do you think of making a stop by Felderwin?”  
“Sure, let me just cover this up better. Who knows whose curiosity we might peak with all of these… crates and whatever.”  
As they laughed between themselves, the hills ahead were crested by dark smoke, columns miles high. Vulri tugged on Mizara’s frocks and pointed towards what could only be omens of worse things to come.


	3. The Smell of Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second novel of the Tusk Love series, now on Ao3.  
> Follow it on tumblr: https://tusklovethebook.tumblr.com
> 
> Mizara is a femme half-orc transwoman. Vulri is a hardy half-elf woman. They met at a concert in Hupperdook, when Mizara was following a traveling band of hard-hitting bards. Vulri’s done it all, pretty much, but has a soft spot for helping caravans make routes between cities.  
> The story picks up when Vulri is given a job to guard a caravan, but Mizara’s head is filled with haunting thoughts that it might be more dangerous than first advertised. Rumours of a vindictive warlock preying on lesser folk, aids her case, but Vulri urges Mizara to trust the caravan leader and their need for coin.

Skies greyed over and as rain drops hit the back of their necks, Vulri and Mizara could swear ash had come down with the downpour. The half-Orc held memories of times long past at bay; the sight of columns of smoke and faded hues of orange were a trigger Mizara wanted not to remember. So, she nuzzled her head on her lover’s neck, letting her mind be filled by Vulri’s sweet susurrus—it made her feel like that scene was not the same, and that she was truly no longer that person.  
“I don’t know what’s goin’ on o’er the hills, but there’s no way in the Nine Hells I’m keepin’ on this track. Yah!” Vulri exclaimed with a pull of the reins.  
The contents of the wagon could very well had been thought worthless to the likes of Vulri and Mizara, but the half-Elf knew bandits found ways of justifying their actions more often than naught. While arms and rations would inject them with enough hot blood to awaken a sleeping ogre, the prospect of selling unusual wares at a steep price to nobles would surely be inspiring.  
As such, they decided to make their way over Felderwin instead of through it. It would cost them time, surely, but the half-Elven mercenary had spent enough time in arduous situations to invite them warmly her way. With Mizara by her side, Vulri had become extra cautious, especially due to the way she looked up at her in times like those.  
Petrichor had settled now, as the rain began to pick up; Vulri’s wood Elven ancestry relished in the way nature found her way to cover up the smell of smoke that filled Vulri’s nostrils half-an-hour before. She inhaled sharply and sighed, water tracing long lines across her tanned face. Mizara perched up, bringing the hood from her cloak over her damp hair.  
“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t cover yourself up, Vee. I didn’t bring that much medicine with us, yeah?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Not of’en you tell me to cover myself, though.” Vulri said grinning proudly.  
“Vee. I love you very dearly, but if you get sick on this forsaken cart, I will leave you by a ditch as a lesson. Let your ranger ass help you then.”  
“Fineeeee…” Vulri’s cloak was a weathered shade of green, like a poorly-kept painting of an overgrown forest. Her hood fell over her hair, both dripping wet. Mizara inspected the smile underneath. “Happy now, baby?”  
“Don’t baby me, baby... You cheeky bitch.” Their laughter let no tension build—no relationship between half-Elves and half-Orcs would be complete without bantering foreplay.  
They had travelled together often before settling in Zadash. Hupperdook was where they first met, first kissed and first made love. For a woman like Vulri, it had always surprised her how every time they embraced after that, it still felt the same. She knew then, it was time to settle down. Mizara’s history was something Vulri learned with time, and while the half-Orc feared Vulri would turn her back on her, she stayed. Vulri always told her that she was prouder in her honesty and resilience than Mizara could ever be of Vulri’s anything. Of course, she poked fun of Mizara’s tears shed in response, only by kissing her cheeks dry afterwards.  
Vulri remembered that along the northern road lied a modest-looking inn. Sunkissed orange roof tiles, flaking white walls with dark oaken beams framing the whole building. She had never been inside with Mizara, but she remembered their service. Sufficient.  
   
There they would rest for the night, with the cart tarp-covered and paid for out back. Vulri made sure to not mention the nature of the cargo or even point out its importance too much. Wanton ears were always perched for outsider talk, and this inn would be no different. The inside was warm and welcoming, despite The Spotted Dog’s exterior. A central fireplace was lit—its bright flames slowly baking the freshly-made loafs of bread sitting on a tray. Cast-iron sconces held repurposed torches and patrons all around spread their merriment and alcohol all over the inn’s floors.  
“Where you wanna sit, Miz?” Vulri stepped aside, a barmaid ploughing through with a tray of empty mugs reeking of honey and bitter fruits.  
“I uh, don’t know, somewhere quiet…er? Seems bit too busy around here.” Mizara tugged on her cloak, hiding her dress underneath.  
Mizara could deal with the busy streets of Zadash easily, as she was accustomed to the sounds and people. The colours and smells made it all more interesting, and nothing about that city compared to Hupperdook. The chaos was what first drew her to it, along with following the Crowmen, a personal favourite Gnome bard band. Tight, crowded places however, were never Mizara’s favourite. They felt like vines around her neck and her ears felt they could pop at any second. Her jaw tensed and she could feel her tusks dig into her upper lip. That inn was just the same.  
“Here…” Vulri grabbed her hand and slowly led her to a side room, watching her head on the overhanging beams.  
The warmth from the common room lingering past the door frame, but the further in they walked, the colder it got. A few farmhands and adventurers sat sporadically across multiple tables, and yet a small table stood defiantly alone at the end of the room. Vulri and Mizara picked up their pace and soon sat on the same side, cuddling on the sturdier bench.

A barmaid made her way towards them soon. After taking their order, she crouched down by the end of the room and began to pile up a couple of logs of wood. As she lit the small twigs and dried leaves underneath, she looked to Mizara and Vulri with a smile.  
“Seems strange to light fires here, y’know? With what’s goin’ on in Felderwind.”  
“We saw the smoke,” Mizara replied quickly, “do you know what happened?”  
“War’s comin’ closer and closer, love. That’s what happened.”  
She bowed her head, her lips pushed together into a tight smile. Vulri cleared her throat and brought Mizara closer, their cloaks still damp from the rain outside. There was only so much she could do from there, and if holding her loved one close was an option, she would do that in a heartbeat.  
Food came in hot but later than expected. The inn had become busier in the common room, which somewhat relaxed the half-Elf and half-Orc that managed to hide away, tucked by the corner of a side room. Honey-glazed carrots, fried dumplings and roasted vegetables, complimented by fresh bread and rice. That was the last of Vulri’s silver off her pouch—but well worth it. They devoured what was in front of them at their own pace, letting the sweetness of the carrots linger around their tongues before filling their mouths with bread. Soon, Mizara was licking her fingers clean while sighing happily. Vulri however, still took her time, while simultaneously pecking away at the remains from her lover’s plate.  
Night had slowly come to rest outside, the dark veil covering the sky fully. Inside The Spotted Dog, the side room was somewhat poorly-lit by the wall sconces and the dimming fire put together by the barmaid an hour or so ago. Before Vulri could stand to fetch another round of drinks, Mizara laid her hand on her shoulder, and another on her thigh. Vulri looked around, inquisitively. Most people had gone into the common room or left, and the ones that stayed paid them no mind. As Vulri opened her mouth, Mizara squeezed between the bench and table and kneeled underneath the weathered wood surface. By then, her cloak was not only dry, but encompassing all of Vulri’s lower body.   
“Uh… Miz?” Vulri’s voice was a whisper that none but Mizara could hear. She adjusted herself on her seat, before feeling the tug of the half-Orc’s hands on her breeches.  
The laces were undone and slowly, the half-Elf’s breeches began being pulled slowly down to her ankles. Hands crawled up her legs, nails tracing lines up to the side of her buttocks. There, Mizara squeezed heartily while pulling her close. Vulri lost her composure and cleared her throat, a hot flush covering her red cheeks.  
“Oh, my fuck.”  
“Sshhh...”  
Vulri felt her breath between her thighs, her kisses climbing up to the peak that she crowned with a faint moan. The half-Elf coughed again, drawing the attention of the barmaid who stepped in with an empty tray.  
“You alright, love? Can I get you anything?”  
“I uh, hah, uh, no, I’m good.”  
“You sure? Another round of drinks perhaps? Where’s your friend? The half-Orc lady.”  
“Round of drinks sounds nice, uh yeah. Oh, she went to the loo. She’ll be back in time for drinks.”  
“Alright. Want me to stoke the fire for you?”  
Tusks sunk into her thigh. Vulri yelped and laughed.  
“Yeah! I just got a shiver down my spine. It’s gettin’ a bit chilly!”  
“Right? Ugh, cold nights this side of the river, love. I’ll do that after I’m back with another round. More of the same?”  
Vulri could feel her tongue parting her lips, the hot air exhaling through Mizara’s nose. Vulri looked down at her plate being taken away and nodded aggressively.  
“Yup, mmhm, thank you.”  
The barmaid smiled and turned on her heels, tray now filled with dirty dishes. Slowly, Mizara crept up from underneath the table with a wide, wet grin.  
“You’re welcome… love,” Mizara kissed Vulri’s bright red cheek, ignoring her furrowed brow. Before she could retaliate, Mizara sucked on the half-Elf’s earlobe and whispered gently. “I want you to sit on my face tonight and I want us to be pissed drunk. Let’s worry about work tomorrow.”  
Vulri growled under her breath, a smile forming on her lips. “Your wish is my fucking command.”


End file.
